The Joining
by aliena wyvern
Summary: "You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint, for the greater good." The Grey Wardens can conscript the worsts, provided that they are the bests. Set in the same verse as "Somebody that I used to know".


**I've always wondered what happened to Samson and Calpernia after Corypheus' defeat, so here is my take. Set in the same universe than "Somebody that I used to know".**

* * *

The Joining

Warden-Commander Tabris rubbed the bridge of her nose. A vicious headache was starting to pulse beneath her skull, a slighly aching reminder that it had not been very long since the False Calling provoked by Corypheus' minions had disappeared. It was not really painful. Merely annoying.  
"So", she said. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Inquisitor. You want me to use the Right of Conscription on these...persons."  
"Yes", Inquisitor Lavellan answered shyly.  
Kallian sighed.  
"You want me to use the Right of Conscription on Corypheus' lieutenants."  
"Yes."  
"Corypheus, the Ancient Darkspawn Magister that almost destroyed the Order and half of Thedas."  
"Yes."  
"Andraste's flaming arse", she swore. "You're serious about that, aren't you?"  
Lavellan fidgeted. That was the problem with her. She fidgeted. A lot. And it was adorable.  
"Well, we cannot keep them in jail forever..." she started.

Kallian threw a disgusted look to the two would-be Wardens standing awkwardly in front of her, under the watchful eyes of Commander Rutherford.  
The man looked like he was going to die on the spot, with his bloodshot eyes and yellowish skin. His hands were trembling, and it seemed a miracle that he could even stand straight. The Warden Commander crinkled her nose. He smelt like death. He seemed to have been very, very sick, for a very, very long time. Clearly, that man would have been better of in bed. With blankets. And a lot of sleeping powders.  
The woman was dusted with freckles, had a cute little gap between her front teeth, and seemed in far better shape then her jailmate. She just looked incredibly bored. Kallian was pretty sure that she had even seen her yawning discretly. _Twice._  
"You must understand, Inquisitor", she said, "that the Wardens can, and will conscript the worsts, provided that they also are the bests."  
The Grey Wardens had the reputation of not being very difficult on who or what they were recruiting. Nothing could be more wrong, of course, but the fact was that the rumor was tenacious. And that while these two had made enough damages to go down in history and prove that they could actually accomplish things, she was not sure that she needed the leaders of the most hated sects of Thedas within her ranks.

"You recruited Loghain Mac Tir", the Inquisitor pleaded.  
Kallian bit her lower lip. She had a point, there.  
"Loghain was, and still is, a war hero, well loved by the people", she retorted. "Which I'm not sure is the case for these two."  
 _And he costed me much_ , she almost added, but she did not.  
At least, it was not Erimond. Because she would have refused down right. The man had been unredeemable. And not particularly talented in anything, on top of that. No one had protested to his execution, not even _Cole_ , and that was saying much.  
A nice, clean stroke, and his head was rolling. Quick, almost painless, and far more that he deserved. That was even more than what she had accorded to Rendon Howe. And she had had to be quick, with Howe. Because she had been running out of time. But she would have gladly made the bastard squeal like the pig he was.  
She was kind, the Inquisitor. And merciful. Too much, perhaps.  
And yet...  
"You are aware, that the Joining can kill them right?" Tabris pointed out.  
Lavellan blinked.  
"Which is why want them to undergo it."  
 _Oh._  
Perhaps not so kind, not so merciful, after all.  
If they lived, they lived. If they died, they died. Somehow, it was worse than a plain death sentence. The uncertainty.  
"I want to see if your Maker still has something in store for them", Lavellan said.  
 _Your_ Maker. But of course. She was Dalish, this wisp of a woman. Dalish and proud, even as the Herald of a Prophetess she did not believe in.

Kallian lowered her voice.  
"She could probably make it", she said, tipping her head toward the woman.  
Then she pointed at the man.  
"But he would not. He is too weak."  
Lavellan's face was cold.  
"So be it."  
The Warden Commander lifted a brow and looked at the Commander of the Inquisition's forces, who was watching his prisoners with careful eyes, his hand on the pommel of his sword.  
"You're not saying anything", she observed.  
He threw them a disgusted look and ran his hand through his golden locks.  
"They are of no use to the Inquisition now that Corypheus is gone. As long as I am rid of them..."  
"I see. They're the garbage, and I the garbage dump", she sighed.  
"That's not..." he protested.  
He was a lot like Alistair, that man. Taller and slightly younger, perhaps. But the same way of stuttering and blushing when embarrassed. A Templar thing, perhaps. Yet she could not help but remember the trapped boy in the Tower, surrounded by corpses, half mad with grief and terror, holding a dead girl that strangely looked like Hawke. That boy was still there, whenever he looked at the Inquisitor with worry and tenderness in his eyes.  
Alistair had looked at her like that, too.

Kallian massaged her temples. Her headache was spreading.  
"Do they have a say in that, at least?" she asked.  
The man looked away. The woman snorted.  
"They asked", Cullen said. "Personally."  
It obviously displeased him.  
"I believe they can speak for themselves", Kallian shot back.  
"We did", the woman said, a tiny smule tugging at the corner of her lips, and her companion grunted in agrement.  
A Templar almost entirely consumed by red lyrium, likely to fall dead at every moment, and a Tevinter mage. _Maker's breath._ She had no love for Tevinter. It probably had something to do with her father almost being shipped off as a slave. _Almost._ Elder Valendrian had not been that lucky. Neither had Valora. Even now, she still wondered what had become of Soris' betrothed. She preferred not to think of it.  
But that woman, Calpernia had fought to free slaves. So had Samson, in a sense.  
They had just chosen the worst possible ally.  
Perhaps she could find some use for those two.  
They were not Orlesians, after all.

"Alright", she said. "I'm taking them. But I'm don't want any whining Orlesian complaining at my doorstep."  
That was a rule she had long established at Vigil's keep.  
 _No._  
 _Orlesians._  
 _Allowed.  
_ No Grand Game, no meddling, no diplomatic incident involving Loghain or Nathaniel or herself. The only Orlesian she was willing to support was Leliana, and Leliana was not even Orlesian born.  
"Raleigh Samson, Lady Calpernia, I hereby conscript you to the Grey Warden", she said, and she certainly did not miss the Inquisitor's small sigh of relief and the way the Commander's shoulders relaxed.  
 _Well._  
If she could be of service. Moreover...the Chantry would be pissed of. Orlais would be pissed of. Tevinter would be pissed of. _Good._ She did not particularly like the Chantry, had a very fereldan attitude toward Orlais, and did not want anything to do with Tevinter.  
She did not aim to please, after all.

Duncan had been a murderer. Loghain had been that, too, to a certain extent. She, above all, was a murderer as well. Samson and Calpernia were not any different.  
"Take them to the main hall", she ordered to the Inquisition soldiers. "We will proceed to the Joining immediately."  
"Already?" Lavellan objected.  
"You're asking much, Inquisitor", Kallian said. "The sooner we are rid of this matter, the better."  
Samson tripped as he turned away toward the door, and Calpernia caught him, gently holding his shoulders. Her face did not show any emotion. But there was so much in that simple touch, in the way her delicate hands splayed on his shoulderblades. She slid an arm around his waist so she could help him stand. And he was so much taller and heavier than her that it seemed a miracle that she did not instantly crumbled under his weight.  
Kallian thought of her own hands on Alistair's shoulders the day he had met his so-called sister. She had felt small, too. And helpless. She had wanted to scream and had not. Could not. Perhaps Calpernia felt the same. She did not know.

The Commander exchanged a quick glance with the Inquisitor, and slid an arm around Samson's shoulders, holding him up as they disappeared through the door, the two soldiers following behind them like confused ducklings.  
"He won't make it, Inquisitor", Kallian said once they were out of ear's reach.  
Lavellan bit her lower lip.  
"He is stronger than you think. He has resisted the red lyrium corruption for months", she retorted. "And Calpernia is helping him."  
But she was not convinced by her own words.  
"We'll know soon enough", the Warden-Commander concluded, sitting up from behind her desk. "However, before I forget...it should be obvious that you are not to reveal the nature of the Joining, Inquisitor."  
It was not a threat. She hoped.  
"Of course", she nodded.

 _There._  
This was the reason why Kallian liked that woman, that little wisp of a Dalish Keeper thrown in a world that was not hers. She knew how things worked. And so, she sat there, silent, her hand in the Commander's, as Kallian brought the silver chalice to her would-be-brethren. It was cold, in her hands, as cold as it had been the day of her own Joining, and the Darkspawn blood smelt like death, a sweet, bitter scent.  
"Join us, brothers and sisters", she proclaimed. "Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."  
"So be it", whispered Lady Calpernia.  
Samson remained stubbornly silent, but sweat was shining on his brow.  
She handed it to him first, so that he could lie down and rest. If he survived.  
"You are called upon to submit yourself to the Taint, for the greater good."

He took a sip, and his face contorted in a grimace. His eyes screwed shut as he fell, a strangled moan escaping his throat, and Calpernia fell with him as she failed to keep him up. Kallian knelt, seeking for a pulse under the clammy skin of his neck.  
"He lives", she said.  
Tougher than he looked, indeed.  
"Dammit", she heard Cullen swear, so low that she almost missed it. She could not even blame him.  
The Mage almost ripped the chalice from her hands, and fell to the floor like a severed tree, a trickle of dark blood not swallowed sliding from the corner of her mouth. She was breathing, too.  
"From this moment forth, you are Grey Wardens", Kallian said, and somehow, there was the hint of a smile on Lavellan's lips.  
 _Well._  
This was going to be interesting.

* * *

 **I really like Samson and Calpernia. Who's with me for Calpernia as an inner circle member in DA4 (with Kieran, Nathaniel Howe, Ser Barris and Michel de Chevin)?**


End file.
